Conclusion
by Scarlet Ibis
Summary: District Attorney Michonne Logan just finished a harsh case with Sheriff Grimes. There was attraction between them that was inexplicably ignored due to duty. A one-shot inspired by an "imagine" from cravingrichonne. It was really the last thing I should be doing, but I couldn't help myself. This ship is crack, I swear…
1. Conclusion

After letting it ring four times, Michonne finally hit the button for line two or her phone.

 _"Sheriff Grimes is here to see you,"_ her secretary said.

Michonne swallowed, looking up at her closed door. She pushed back from her desk, standing. "Tell him to come in," she said before hanging up the call. She turned, standing in front of her floor to ceiling windows, overlooking the river. She crossed her arms and tried not to shiver when she heard her door open.

"Michonne," he said, the rich timbre of his voice making her shiver from its sound.

"Rick," she threw over her shoulder, then turned back to the window, afraid to look him in the eye. Cause if she looked, he'd see. He'd _know_ …

"How are you?" he asked, walking over to where she was. She shrugged.

"Just…working. Taking a brief break."

He chuckled. "After the case you just had, shouldn't you be on a vacation?"

Michonne smiled to herself. "There's always work to do, Grimes."

Rick was behind her, now, looking over her shoulder at the river and the people along the river walk. "Don't know about that," he murmured. He sighed heavily, then, "I came here because…now that the case is over, I thought that, maybe we could get to know each other better." He placed a hand on her shoulder, and it took everything for Michonne to not lean back into his touch. Instead–

"I'm not…I'm not a casual person, Rick." She finally turned to look at him. He looked her up and down, a small smile on his lips, a twinkle in his eyes.

"I know. You're the type a guy takes home to his family. Shows off to his friends, cause she's so amazing. Cause you want someone else to bear witness, prove she's real. That's the type of woman you are Michonne. And if you let me, I'll do those thangs and more. If you just give me–"

She kissed him, believing him, giving in. And it was lovely. He kissed her slowly and with purpose, quietly promising things to come. His large hands gripped her waist, massaging her torso before pulling her flush against him. Michonne wrapped her arms around his neck, reveling in the overall feel of him, hoping against hope he meant what he said.

She pulled back, looking at him. "A relationship. Is that what you really want?" she asked.

"Only with you," he said honestly. "I only want you."

Michonne nodded. "Okay. Okay…" She kissed him, deciding that falling down this rabbit hole with Rick would be a worthy trip. She didn't know why she believed him, but she did; a simple truth she decided to accept.

Whatever was to come, Michonne was ready.


	2. The Slayer

_Converting that one shot "Conclusion" into a series of one shots that will explore Richonne in different universes. This one is a shout out to the BtVS fandom, which opened all avenues of fandom to me._

 _On another note, if you haven't gotten enough of_ **Useful to You** _, check out my Pat reon dot com slash HouseOfFangirl for exclusive updates._

 **Summary:** Rick and Michonne feel the burden of being called.

* * *

"Wait, what are you...what are you telling me right now?" Michonne stared at him, confused.

She had been coming home from work when she was approached by a man. Hands shoved deeply into his brown suede bomber jacket, he walked over in what could only be described as swaggering, his bow legs adding a bit of charm to it. Normally, being approached by a guy that late at night while she was walking would be off putting, but there was something in his eyes, his curly, brown hair all saying 'Just trust me.'

" _Are you Michonne?_ " he add asked, his Southern twang adding even more charm. Michonne felt herself getting smitten by the package of this mystery man. She shook it off, however, curious as to how he knew her name and answered, " _Why?_ "

" _Well..._ "

A snarl from behind made her snap to attention. A man with a disfigured face lunged at her.

" _Yeah, that's who you want,_ " Rick had said impassively to the man. " _You may want to fight back_ ," he said to her.

Michonne stared at him as if he had lost his mind, holding back the deranged, disfigured man who was hellbent on attacking her.

" _Slayer,_ " he hissed from around a mouth full of fangs. Michonne veered back in disgust, then spun them both around, flinging him in the direction towards the man in the jacket. He nodded, impressed, side stepping the airborne man.

" _You got it_ ," he said, reaching inside of his sheep-lined jacket, pulling something out. " _Try this_ ," he added, tossing the item to her.

It was a wooden stake.

" _What is going on!_ " she yelled.

" _You know, deep down_ ," he answered with certainty. " _I'm Rick, by the way. Now. On your six._ "

Michonne turned just as the disfigured man was up again, charging at her. Out of nowhere, she performed a spin kick, knocking him to the grassy ground. Before he could move again, she plunged the stake into his heart with a battle cry. He exploded into dust underneath her. Michonne stumbled back, hyperventilating. " _What the hell was that!_ "

The stranger-Rick-ambled over to her, watching her carefully. " _A vampire. This really is your first time, huh?_ "

Slowly, Michonne had turned to him, then promptly slapped him in the face with a back hand, whipping his head to the side.. " _You let him attack me_ ," she accused.

Rick chuckled, rubbing his stubbly cheek. "C _ould have punched me. Restraint is good._ " Slowly he let his eyes travel over her, making her shift uncomfortably.

" _What?_ "

" _Hate to break it to you, but, vampires are real, and in every generation, there's a Chosen One-a slayer. This time it's you, darlin'_."

Michonne shook her head. Even though that explanation made more sense than not, she didn't want this. Not _this_.

"This can't be happening. I don't want this. This isn't what I want for myself!" she yelled.

Rick exhaled, frustrated. "You think you're the only one that carries the burden just because you're chosen? Think again. I was chosen, too. I had a life before all this. I didn't sign up to watch a bunch of girls be slaughtered. You aren't the first. Beth Greene. Sophia Peletier. Sasha Williams. Rosita Espinosa. I had to watch them all carry out a duty, and then be snuffed out. Got called to be a Watcher when I was only twenty years old. Eighteen years of this shit..." He put his hands at his waist, shaking his head. "Well you know what? I'm done."

Michonne frowned. "Wait... you aren't going to teach me? You tell me about this...this _curse_ and what? I have to figure it out on my own? No. That's not how this goes."

"Oh, it's not?" His voice was sarcastic, eyes squint.

" _No,"_ she statedfirmly. "It's not. Besides, you need me. I give your life purpose. I'm guessing the only thing watchers watch are slayers, huh?" She sighed, changing gears. "And, I need you, too." Her tone was gentler, sincere, her eyes pleading. "I can't do this alone," she admitted quietly.

Rick stared at her for a good, long while. Then he nodded. "Okay."  
. . . . . . .

"I need you," he whispered, staring into her eyes as he moved languidly within her. "This is home."

Sexual tension in the workplace was normal. They were often in close quarters, sparring, one of them landing on top of the other during their fights...

Except it didn't happen there at all.

Not on the gym mats when they were all sweaty, or after a night of patrol, fighting for their lives. They had been sitting on his couch, taking a much needed break, watching Netflix.

"Wait a minute," he had murmured, reaching into his back pocket, and pulled out a blue, multicolored headband. "To keep your hair out of your eyes," he had said with a lazy smile, staring into said eyes. She smiled back, and they stayed like that for a good, long while. Then suddenly, they gravitated toward each other, inch by inch, and had one of the most sweetest, innocent kisses two adults could possibly share. It was lovely. Then Rick deepened the kiss, cupping her cheek, pulling her towards him. Everything that they had done had been building up to this one moment, and they took it without hesitation, making love right there on the couch.

It hadn't been sparring to the sheets-they knew it was more than that. Neither wanted anyone else.

There was no one else.  
. . . . .. . .

"You can't do this," Rick grit out from clenched teeth. They were before the Watcher's Council, and they had just informed him that he was to be reassigned to a new slayer.

"We aren't the firsts...we can't be," Michonne added. She straightened, staring them all down. "And even if we are, what of it? I still do my job." She looked over at Rick, her eyes soft. "And he still does his."

"We work better together. No one watches her back like I do. _No one_ ," he said vehemently.

"That is the problem," Quentin Travers, head of the Council, countered. "She is not yours to protect."

Rick glared up at the man, who sat so high and mighty on the panel as if he were judge and jury. "You're wrong. All of you," he said, looking at the rest of the Council. "Love does not weaken us. It makes us _stronger_. You don't own me. You don't own _us_."

"He's right. If you can't accept..." Michonne paused, staring at each of them carefully. "If you can't accept that we are a team-slayer and watcher together-then we will no longer work for you, because that stipulation does not work for us."

"You'd abandon the Council Richard? Leave all of this behind?" Quentin questioned, appalled.

Rick looked at Michonne, then grasped her hand. "You're gonna have to go scouting for a new slayer, and a new watcher. And you know what? I think it's long overdue. Come on, Michonne."

Michonne smiled at him, squeezing his hand, triumphant as the two of them left the hall, walking out without a backwards glance.

What the Council didn't understand was this: Rick and Michonne played by their own rules, and there was no one in the world who could tell them differently.


	3. Choices

I think about a world where Lori didn't die during childbirth; where she was still around when Michonne showed up at those gates. And you know what I got?

* * *

"You're still keeping your distance."

It wasn't an accusation, so much as a statement. And it was true–Rick thought that things might change after Lori had the baby. It didn't. Fact is, Rick knew without a shadow of a doubt that she wasn't his. The damage, from start to finish, was irreparable, just like their marriage. Still, they were his responsibility. Everyone at the prison was.

Slowly, Rick turned and faced his wife. "Where's the baby?" he asked, looking just past her shoulder.

Lori sighed, staring at him. "You're not looking at me? Still?"

Rick opened his mouth to say something, than snapped it shut.

"You look at her, though," Lori commented, a bit derisively, but also a bit sad.

His brow furrowed, than slowly he let his eyes travel to Lori's.

"Do you even know how much you look at her?"

"What do you want me to say, Lori? What…" Rick turned, sucking his teeth. "I killed my best friend. My _brother_. And you–you just had his baby."

Lori shook her head. "We don't know that."

"Yeah? Well I've also looked at her. She has his _eyes_ , for chrissakes. I don't know how to come back from that. Any of it."

"What, so you just move on to the next woman who shows up?"

"I haven't…nothing's happened," he quietly said.

"But you want it to." _That_ was an accusation. Rick stared at her full on before looking away, not denying it.

"I don't…I don't know what it is. But yes, I've noticed her. Hell, I can't _not_ notice her. And I…I wanna see where it goes," he confessed, his voice soft.

"What are you…how is that supposed to work, Rick?" she asked, incredulous.

Rick looked down at his hand, his ring finger, twisting the band around as he thought. Finally he took it off. He walked over to her, and placed it in her hand. "I'm gonna see," he murmured walking away.

… …

"I just don't understand," Lori sniffed. Carol rubbed her back gently. "She's not even his type. What's so special about her?" she asked. "I mean, if that had been like Maggie, or–"

"Maggie?" Carol asked with a hint of disgust. "She's like…well not a daughter, but like a sister or something. And she is still with Glenn, so–"

Lori shook her head. "I meant, if it was someone who looked like a Maggie, I'd get it. Michonne is just…I don't like him sniffing around her."

Carol frowned. "Is it her, or is it anyone?"

"Both."

"So. Get him back," Carol said emphatically. "I still consider you the first lady of us. If you're Flotus, go on and get back your Potus."

"I don't know, Carol. It might be too late."

"Who knows?" Carol said. "Maybe he doesn't have a shot with her."

Lori wiped a stray tear. "I don't know about that. Pretty sure she's noticed him, too."

… …

She was keeping watch by the fence, the afternoon sun blazing its warmth on her face. Rick sidled up next to her, fingers hanging on the links of the fence, gazing down into the yard along with her.

"You know," he started. "I woke up into all of this. I was in a coma when it happened. I woke up, alone. Thought I was in hell, or going crazy, and couldn't decide which was worse. I was alone for…four or five hours before I saw another living soul, but it felt like…felt like years." He looked over at her, to find that she was looking intently at him. He smiled. "How long was it for you? When you were out there alone?"

Michonne exhaled, putting the rifle down, linking her fingers into the chain link fence, mirroring Rick. "I dunno. Too long."

Rick nodded, getting it.

"Felt like a lifetime, like that had been the only life I'd ever known. Andrea made me remember…" She trailed off, remembering.

"Michonne? I wanna know more. About you."

Michonne half scoffed and half laughed. "But Rick, you're…" She glanced at his ringless finger. Brow furrowed, she touched its nakedness with the tip of her index finger. "What happened?"

"I gave it back. Not just because I wanted…it was for me, too. We weren't working. We _don't_ work. And that was before all this. Before the world ended It was foolish to think–" Rick shook his head. "Carl was shot, and it was touch and go. Know what she said to me?"

Michonne looked at him, quietly, curious.

"She said, maybe it would just be best if we let him go."

Michonne had a strange look on her face–it was a cross between incredulity and anger, confusion and sorrow. Rick felt compelled to put a hand on her shoulder, so he did.

"You okay?"

Michonne wiped at her eyes with the back of her gloved hand. "A parent doesn't give up. No matter what happens, you don't quit. You just don't."

Rick stared at her, curious, knowing there was more, but sensing not to press her. Instead, he offered, "I agree."

Michonne turned back to the fence, hanging her fingers in the chain links once more. "So…this getting to know you business. How does it work?" she asked.

Rick shrugged, shifting ever so slightly nearer to her. "I guess just this–talking, asking questions. Maybe a walk?"

"Or go on a run," she added with a small smile.

Rick nodded. "Yeah. We can do that, too.

… …

It stayed innocent for a long while. They talked all the time–on patrol, in the cell blocks, a lot of time just talking and walking. Then one day, as she gently laughed at one of his somewhat corny jokes, he took her hand, holding it. She smiled at him, holding his back. They stared at each other for a moment, and then continued their walk along the perimeter, walkers snarling in the background. But the sun was shining, and Michonne was smiling, and everything was okay.

… …

"I want Michonne. Turn her over, and this all goes away."

Rick stared at the Governor, stunned he was asking this of him. Then suddenly Rick felt ill, and he was sure he looked it, too.

"Is she worth it? One woman? Worth, all of those lives at the prison? Is she?"

Rick didn't even have to second guess that. Not that he could trust anything the Governor said anyway. Lies, all of it. A poor attempt to make Rick lose his humanity by turning over Michonne, only to kill them all later anyway.

Philip really didn't know who he was dealing with.

"You're not considering his offer?" Her voice was devoid of any emotion whatsoever, and she wouldn't look at him.

Rick paused, squinting his eyes as he stared at her. "Are you fucking with me right now?" he asked, appalled.

Michonne looked at him. "About this? No."

"Look, he was probably lying anyway. And even if he weren't…even if the deal was real…" Rick brushed the apple of her cheek with his thumb as his fingers cupped the back of her neck. He swallowed. "I'm not letting you go."

Michonne's lip quivered a bit, but she was smiling. "No?"

"Of course not," Rick stated huskily, staring into her eyes. He paused a beat, waiting to see if she would look away. She didn't. He dipped his head down, kissing her firmly on the lips. She accepted it, returning the kiss full on. Wrapping her arms around him as she let him deepen the kiss, she realized she wasn't letting go, either.

… …

"I hope you're happy." Though Lori's tone was derisive, her face stiff with anger, Rick couldn't help but smile. As suspected, the Governor was not a man of his word [and it had been no surprise to Rick] and attacked the prison. His anxiousness had made him sloppy. Rick had thought about the way he had looked at him when he asked that Rick deliver Michonne, and he thought about what Merle had said–all of the things he might like to do to her, and it put a white, hot anger in his belly.

Rick couldn't let him leave, and he didn't. He set a trap, and Philip stumbled right into it. Two bullets to the chest and one to the head, and it was done.

"You know what? I am. We still have this place, each other, and Woodbury, too."

"You went to war, Rick. All for one woman and–"

"Hey," he cut in, his tone sharp. "That was for us all. We had no choice but to fight. And we won–we're all still here."

"Yeah, but we're not together," she said in a hushed toned. "I want us to be together, Rick. A family again. I want it like how things used to be."

Rick frowned. "How thangs used to…you mean you accusing me of not loving my family? Berating me for not expressing myself in the manner of your preference? You can't go back, Lori. Hell, that isn't something I'd want to go back to even if I could."

"Then I think…one of us should live in Woodbury. I don't want to do this, here. Seeing you with her, holding her hand–"

"And I'm sorry it bothers you." Though he was sincere about it, his tone still said, 'but deal with it.' "If you want to leave, then I understand. But Carl stays here."

"What?" she asked, breathless.

"You can do what you want. But my son? He stays with me. There will be no debate about that." Rick walked briskly past her, the conversation over as far as he was concerned. "Let me know what you decide to do," he called out over his shoulder. Rick had made up his mind; what was done was done.

… …

The moon hung low in the sky, bathing everything in an iridescent, blue light. She leaned on the railing of the watch tower, staring up at it. He leaned next to her, though his eyes weren't on the moon.

"It's beautiful tonight," she said.

Rick smiled. "Yeah. It is."

Michonne smirked. "I meant the moon. And the stars."

"Yeah, those are beautiful, too."

They both chuckled, then Rick took her hand, kissing the back of it.

"Rick?" she asked, her voice hesitant.

"What's wrong?"

She shook her head. "Nothing I just…I want to tell you everything. It's scary, knowing that…but I do."

"I get it. I do," he assured. "I feel the same way. What comes next…now it's just us. No more roadblocks," he said, looking at her.

She chanced a peak, and was immediately caught in the intensity of his gaze. Like celestial bodies, they drifted toward one another, gently touching; firmly kissing; a kiss that intensified as the seconds melded into moments–one moment. This moment.

Smiling with laughs intermingling with giggles, they continued to kiss as they backed into the tower, sinking down to the floor, exploring as they undressed each other. It was a night of discovery; a preview of what was to come for them. The chapter may have closed, but that book was nowhere near finished.


	4. More Than a Feeling

Summary: The one where Rick's a prince, and Michonne's a princess...

* * *

"I'm just saying, man. Finally get you to come to one of these things, and you dress up as a priss miss," Shane groused. He had taken Rick, Daryl, Carl and Judith to their first comic con. Shane was dressed as the Punisher, Daryl as the Terminator, Carl as Deadpool, Judith as Cinderella, and Rick as Prince Eric.

"Not a priss miss," Rick corrected. "I'm the prince." He smiled at Judith on the last part, making the three year old smile.

"Yeah, well, you could have at least been a King if you were gonna do that." Shane noticed a Harley Quinn carrying a sign-Geek Speed Date. He smirked. "Okay, I know what comes next. We're doing that."

"What? No," Rick protested.

"Carl, take your sister. The men have something to tend to. Won't be more than thirty minutes, I'm sure," Shane explained.

"Geek speed dating? Man, have you lost it?" Daryl asked.

Shane pulled Daryl aside. "This is the first time Rick has been out since...you know. What's the harm anyway? A bunch of geek girls dressed up. It'll be like a pre-test. Get him back on the water."

Daryl stared at Shane for a moment before rolling his eyes. "Fine."

"Now help me convince _him_ ," Shane said. "Hey! You with the clipboard! Three more right over here," Shane called out to the portly Jedi. Light saber in hand, he strolled over.

"Yes, gentleman, that'll be twenty dollars each," he said, holding his hand out for the funds.

Shane was the first one to balk. "You've gotta be shi-" He paused, looking over at Carl and Judith. "You've gotta be kidding me, man."

"I'd hurry if I were you. The men slots always fill quite quickly," the Jedi said with a smile.

"It's fine. I got it," Daryl said, reaching into his pocket.

"You sure?" Rick asked.

"It'll even out in the end. I ain't worried," Daryl said, handing the Jedi some bills.

The Jedi nodded, then handed them each a nametag with a number. "Please stand in line over here," he said, motioning to the right side of the door.

"Princess!" Rick turned his head to see what his daughter was shouting about, and saw a most lovely Cinderella coming down the hallway. Her hair, while in dreadlocks, was swept up into a Cinderella coif, a strip of blue ribbon completing the look. The blue of the dress complimented her brown skin perfectly. Rick stared at her eyes-they were large and bright, like a Disney princess brought to life. Rick felt his mouth go dry.

"Judith, stop," Carl pleaded, the toddler squirming quite hard in his arms. She was reaching out toward the Cinderella.

"Oh, hello," the woman said, stopping at Judith. "What a pretty princess you are."

"I want a princess picture," she asked, all smiles.

"That's perfectly fine with me," the woman said.

Carl looked at his dad. Rick nodded. "Sure, uh...I have a camera."

The woman took the toddler, who was all too happy to be held by a true princess, chubby arms around her neck. Rick took out his Canon, turning it on.

"Can't believe you don't have a camera phone," Shane muttered.

Rick ignored him, focusing the camera on his daughter and the princess. "Say cheese," he said, aiming. A couple of shots, and it was done. The woman handed Judith back over to Carl.

"I take it you're the dad?" she asked, extending a gloved hand.

"I am. I'm Rick," he said, grasping her hand in his, giving a slight bow as he kissed it. She smiled looking away for a moment.

"I'm Michonne."

"And I'm ready to party!" the Jedi yelled. "The time has come, ladies and geeks! We now enter the grand hall to begin the festivities of speed dating!"

"Oh, I have to go," she said, watching as the women entered.

"Oh, me too," Rick said shyly. "I'll see you in there."

She nodded, smiling back.

"I'll be back in a bit. Gonna go to that trailer panel. Something for her to look at," Carl said. "Have fun," he called over his shoulder, heading off.

"Given that little exchange," Shane said, "I have a feeling this is gonna go well for one of us."

"Shut up," Rick said with a roll of his eyes. Though if he were honest, with himself at least, he was excited at the prospect of sitting across from Michonne.

He, Shane and Daryl entered, and somehow, she was seated on the other side of the large room. The women were all seated, stationary, with the men rotating in the chairs at one minute intervals. There were nice girls, punk girls, weird girls, and everyone all in costume. But Rick couldn't stop glancing at the one lone Cinderella, in all her elegance and beauty, as he moved from one seat to the other. He'd talk to one woman, and find himself glancing over his shoulder, counting down how many seats were left until he was sitting in front of hers. His heart beat faster as he grew closer. Seven seats away. Six.

Five.  
Four.  
Three.  
Two...

"And..that's the last round, folks!" the Jedi announced.

"What?!" Rick exclaimed, looking at the man. He turned to Michonne, who shrugged helplessly.

"Yes, that concludes this round of Speed Dating. Thank you for participating. I need all of the men on the left side of the room, and all of the women on the right. No talking, please! It's time to tally!"

Rick sat there for a moment, stunned. Michonne had walked to her respective side, paper in hand. He looked at her, a black pearl in a sea of diamonds.

"Hey, sorry man," Daryl said, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I know you were looking forward to talking to her."

"Yeah, she seemed pretty cool," Shane added. "I'm sure you two would have hit it off."

Rick nodded to himself, and made a decision. "Screw it," he said, walking with purpose to the other side of the room.

"Excuse me, fair prince, but did you _not_ hear the instructions?" the Jedi called out. But Rick didn't care.

"You know," Rick said, addressing the room. "I wasn't even gonna do this, but my friends convinced me. Then I saw this...vision coming down the hallway, and I was really looking forward to talking to her."

"I don't make the rules," the Jedi cut in. "I just enforce them," he said turning on his light saber, earning a laugh from the room.

"I don't need some game to do this," Rick retorted. "Princess, would you do me the honor of having a drink with me?"

Michonne stood there, mouth agape. A brunette Harley Quinn gave her a gentle nudge at the shoulder. "Go on," she encouraged.

Michonne cocked her head, a mix of a smirk and a smile on her face. It was downright mischievous. "You know for a prince, you're mighty scruffy," she joked. "Could have made time to shave."

Rick smirked back. "Well, I still have to look like me come tomorrow."

"It does work on you. It does. And you're...Prince Eric?" she asked.

"That's right, Cinderella," he said, slouching, thumbs hanging from his belt loops.

"I was looking for Charming but...this will do," she said, extending her hand once more. "I'd love to go get that drink."

Rick smiled, interlacing her fingers with hers.

"Yeah!" Shane yelled. "That's what I'm talking about! Call us later man-we've got Carl and Judith."

Rick gave his friends a smile while Michonne gave her a wink, and the Prince and Princess headed out.


	5. Starting Fresh

Summary: I was asked what I thought would happen if Rick and Michonne hadn't been interrupted by the Claimers, and what I thought might have happened.

One of the three words I'd use to describe Rick & Michonne is inevitable [the other two are soulmates and perfection]. If they had stayed at the prison, if they had stayed at that house, if they hadn't been stopped by the Claimers or Terminus…they were going to happen.

[Note: I can see reviews on here, but this site isn't letting me respond to them :/ But I see y'all. Thank you!]

Anyway, let's go back…this is where the trajectory of the conversation took me before Joe and his raping band shows up. Here's what could have happened (in my brain, anyway)...

* * *

"That was one small rabbit," Rick comments, quietly laughing at their misfortune.

"It was something," Michonne says. "Got to hand it to the thing. It traveled well."

Rick chuckles at her wry joke, then sobers as he realizes… "Have you noticed? That's all we talk about anymore? Food." His brow furrows as he realizes, "I forgot what this feels like."

"Me, too," she agrees. "I hope we're able to forget again soon."

"We're close. Just got to make it through another day," he says, stamping out the fire. "If folks there are taking people in, they have to be strong. They have to have a system."

"I wonder if the whole thing's legit," Michonne muses.

"We let people in," Rick points out.

"We did. So did the Governor." Michonne looks at him, pointedly.

"Yeah, that's always the thang, isn't it? Don't get to know until we know. Maybe this place isn't even there anymore."

"Or maybe it is," Michonne counters, thoughtful. "It'll be there, and…we'll get to start fresh." Her voice is quiet, almost shy as she continues to look down at her hands.

Rick stares at her, thinking how lovely she looked in profile. Or straight on. Just lovely. The hunger had done a good job of making him forget, tabling his feelings. But only for a moment. "Starting fresh… That'd be good," he says, still staring.

Finally she looks at him. "What would be the first thing you'd do to start fresh?"

Rick chuckles a bit. "Well, I'd start with a shower." Michonne laughs with him. "Get some fresh clothes…then, I think…" He pauses, staring at her, carefully. Then he nods, deciding on something. "I think I'd ask out this girl. Something I've been meaning to do for awhile."

Michonne stares at him, surprised.

"I half-assed it once, but I wouldn't make that same mistake. I'd be direct, make it clear so she'd know…" Rick wants to look away, but he can't. She doesn't either. "I'd just hope like hell I didn't get rejected," he adds, softly.

Michonne just stares at him, marveling. She places her hand down on the tree trunk next to him, angling her body towards him. "Why do you think you'd get rejected?" she asks quietly.

Rick takes a deep breath, then places his hand on top of hers as he slowly leans in. Michonne doesn't move away, and gradually leans in towards him. As their lips lightly meet, Rick gently touches her face with his free hand. The kiss is innocent, pure, and oh so lovely. Just as they deepen it with a soft caress, Rick feels the barrel of metal at his temple.

"Oh dearie me…"


End file.
